


The Forever Hole

by AltUniverseWash



Series: Forever After [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Existentialism, F/F, Forgiveness, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Nonbinary Character, Redemption, Self-Reflection, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, narrative structure, vrisrezi, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22334776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltUniverseWash/pseuds/AltUniverseWash
Summary: At the end of Act 7 of Homestuck, with Lord English presumably defeated as he fell into the black hole, Vriska Serket finds herself in an unfamiliar place devoid of any meaningful features beyond her own existence. Where is she? Why is she there? Will she be able to leave?And who is this asshole who keeps talking over her?This is a semi-non-linear sometimes-unconventional narrative that plays with the ideas of narrative conventions, framing, character identity, and the relationship between authors and characters. It explores Vriska's character in light of her own self-reflection and development over time as a person. It also touches on her relationship with Terezi and their feelings towards each other.
Relationships: Terezi Pyrope & Vriska Serket, Terezi Pyrope/Vriska Serket
Series: Forever After [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664167
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	The Forever Hole

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this and want to read more, please check out the ongoing sequel "A Piece of Each of Our Hearts" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/22360888/chapters/53420065) which continues this story and expands the style into a more narrative-driven experience that still plays around with narrative and character a lot, while exploring themes of mutual support, redemption, forgiveness, and dealing with the aftermath of trauma.

The act of describing nothingness is a kind of existential exercise. How does one describe something that inherently has no form or substance? How does one picture and then ultimately coalesce their specific insights, biases, and preconceptions into a singular description? Because nothingness isn’t defined by its presence, but rather by its complete absence.

Perhaps, then, the act of describing it reveals what a person holds in their heart. Do they describe it as a state devoid of contact with others – a kind of social purgatory where one is simply alone with one’s thoughts? Is it the lack of objects – of the _things_ that populate our daily lives and provide so much definition to our world?

Or, perhaps, the ultimate description of nothingness is the lack of _self_ . The lack of even the most basic of thoughts or sense of consciousness. The lack of anything that could give meaning or context to any other thing. And how would one even _define_ that?

With great difficulty, I would image.

But at the same time, I suppose it wouldn’t matter in the first place. Because you’d be nothing, and nothing is the absence of everything that defines who we are, what we think, or what we feel.

AG: Is there a point to this bullshit?  
What are you talking about? And why aren’t you using your quirk?  
AG: W8 a minute, what do you mean?  
Ah yes, there it is. Good. But you weren’t supposed to cut in for another few paragraphs.  
I was going to ruminate on nothingness for another couple hundred words, then…

Imagine, if you will, your preferred definition of nothingness. But _not_ the one in which you, yourself, are nothing. That would cut this scene short and that would make things difficult. Imagine, instead…

If it were possible for a void to truly howl, then Vriska Serket imagined that this one was doing just that. That made assumptions about wind, and weather patterns… things that didn’t seem to hold any meaning whatsoever in this place. It was terribly dark. Or rather, it was terribly _black_. Light didn’t seem to mean the same thing here – she could still see herself. Her ripped coat revealing cerulean-stained arms. The blood was hers, but…

There wasn’t any blood. And her coat wasn’t ripped anymore. Or hadn’t been ripped in the first place? It was a question that Vriska’s mind tossed back and forth a couple rounds before ignoring it completely. It wasn’t important at this point. It was more important to…

AG: Do you mind telling me what's actually happening here?  
I don’t really think this is the time.  
AG: You said that 8efore…  
No, I don’t believe I did. I would remember something like that.  
AG: FUCK! I don't mean literally you piece of shit!  
Please, I was scene-setting. You don’t understand the literary process _at all_.  
Probably what one should expect from a murder-hobo role-player…

Vriska had lost track of time again and…

Oh shit… wait a second, I think I got distracted…

It was more important to take stock of her surroundings. The void’s howling wasn’t so much an actual, physical _sound_ as it was a _feeling_ . It was this intense, inescapable pull toward an undefined point in the distance. If concepts like “point” or “distance” even _meant_ anything here. Vriska seriously doubted that they did.

Oddly enough, there did seem to be a _ground_. Or, at least, a solid plain where her feet were. As far as Vriska could tell, it had no defining features and was completely flat and smooth in all directions. Or, rather, she assumed that was the case but, honestly, couldn’t tell. There was literally nothing to see. An impenetrable black within which her own body was the only thing that was visible.

Vriska decided to take stock of herself – the one thing that she actually _could_ take stock of in this place (if that was even the right word for it). She quickly looked down, almost as if she were terrified that she would glance at her body and see only a floating set of arms.

But no – everything was where it should be. Her coat and t-shirt appeared to be intact and without any noticeable damage. Her pants weren’t ripped or torn and her shoes were solidly on her feet. She could see her own face, but her hair seemed to all still be there. Looking down, she let her eyes linger slowly on her…

AG: What the shit?! I don't know what you're doing here 8ut I h8 it!  
I believe this would be the part they call “fan service” – I may be using the wrong term.  
You were going to gaze longingly at yourself and the reader(s) would be able to project their own desires and insecur…  
AG: TH4T 1S NOT FUCK1NG H4PP3N1NG, YOU B4ST4RD!  
Oh? That wasn’t expected. I think we did something wrong here.  
Hold on one second, I have to check something… I don’t think…  
no, she’s not even _here,_ let alone speaking through your lines.  
Something on your mind, Serket? Doesn’t matter!

In any case, Vriska’s eyes slowly…

AG: I swear I will 8eat you to death with your own 8ulge you piece of shit!  
Listen, you, I don’t have time to deal with this inane drivel.  
I don’t have time to lecture you on the nature of narrative frameworks and other such…  
intellectual topics. I don’t really think it would be within your realm of comprehension anyway.  
Vis-a-vis reality, that is…

Vriska laughed, “OH… MY… GOD! Did you just try to channel the Architect from the second fucking Matrix movie?!” Her laughter increased in volume, despite there being no one there to hear it.

“You know that Terezi and I watched that together, right? One of John’s dumbass suggestions… but it was all right.”

I wasn’t aware. You’re referring to something I never witnessed.  
In fact, I think you’re making this up. Also, stop breaking the frame here.  
You have a role to fill. And stop bringing Terezi up!  
I already implied that she wasn’t in this narrative and that should be enough for you!  
AG: Oh, I have to shut up, do I?!  
AG: Is that what we're going with here,  
AG: you ir8 son of a 8ulge-munching 8itch-8east????????  
Yes. As charming as your odd blend of Earth and Alternian slang is,  
I really need you to restrict all further outbursts to proper in-narrative...

“Oh, so you’re _that_ globe-headed asshole? I thought you became English or something?” Vriska raised an eyebrow, despite that being a completely silly thing to do in light of there being LITERALLY NO ONE TO SEE HER BEING A STUPID DRAMATIC PRINCESS!

No, I’m not Doc Scratch.  
We’re well outside that particular set of rules,  
but I already said that I wasn’t going to indulge this kind of nonsense.  
  
Also, please restrict any out-of-context questions to this proper narrative sub-space so I can quickly and easily edit them out.

Vriska smiled slowly, like a fucking fool. “Yeah… no. I don’t think I’m going to indulge that.”

And just like that, Vriska blinked and she wasn’t looking into the howling black void _[_ you really like that one, huh?  _No, you are **not** allowed to hijack my narrative like that! No more in-line commentary!]_

But was instead standing in a perfectly normal bedroom. The walls were painted with a faded blue and the carpet underneath had probably been green at one point in its life, although it was quickly trending to a faded gray muddle lacking any real definition at all. The bedroom contained a bed, as most do, tucked neatly in a corner across from a desk with a computer on it. All around the room, posters for a truly impressive variety of terrible Earth movies were haphazardly stapled to the walls. Vriska’ eyes settled on one featuring the dreamy visage of Nicolas Cage…

“Oh my fucking… this is John’s room… from…”

Tears began to well up in her eyes…

“OH SHUT THE HELL UP! I’m not crying, you goddamn bastard, because this doesn’t make any fucking sense. This is John’s room from when he was like 16 and it was on a version of Earth that doesn’t exist anymore!” Her fists clenched, nearly drawing blood and leaving a series of neat v-marks in her palm where her claws dug in.

But it _was_ John’s room. From when he was 16. Or 13. Or 32. Or maybe 20 and while he was still at college. Or maybe when he was 19 or 21 and living on Earth-C, but a version where this room still existed.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your weird rant,” Vriska interjected – in a way that suggested she absolutely _did_ mean to interrupt, I might add, “but this isn’t making any _sense_ to me? How am I even here? Where’s John if this is his room? And what do you mean by all of that bullshit you just rattled off?”

There was blood pooling under her nails now. She really was getting annoyed.

If you’re going to insist on making these little asides,  
then I insist you at least use proper decorum.  
And please use your quirk.  
Why? I’m not typing?  
I’m trying to talk to… whoever…  
whatever the hell you are.  
Okay, but at least keep the text color and font.  
It’ll make it easier to follow if I miss any of this in the second pass.  
What are you talking about?  
Never mind.

Vriska began to look around, frantically. Her heart was beating faster, wondering where John could have gotten to. Thinking about him brought a flush to her cheeks, a little tinge of blue coming up from under…

Okay, what is going on here?!  
Like, okay, I get it – some really weird shit is happening.  
But… why are you making these assumptions about me in the first place?  
I don’t understand.  
Pfft… yeah, no kidding.  
Why are you making so many assumptions about my feelings in the first place?  
Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?  
Of course!

The truth was… Vriska was still very much in love with John. She couldn’t quite bring herself to admit it, but deep down in her heart she knew it was…

NO! STOP IT! Stop trying to make your weird thoughts _my_ thoughts.  
Do you have _any_ idea what you’re even doing?!  
I’m talking about your obvious unfulfilled feelings for John Egbert.  
You and he were about to start a long cycle of falling in love with each other and live together on Earth-C.  
But cruel fate intervened and you were both torn asunder –  
him to wallow on Earth-C in a meaningless haze of anguish  
and you to wander the nothing void of the black hole.  
  
It’s quite tragic and I’m extremely proud of myself for writing it.  
In fact, I think I’ve brought my own specific brand of poignancy to the situation!  
I… wasn’t in love with John Egbert.  
I mean, I think I was at one point. Or I could’ve been.  
Maybe. I don’t know.  
I feel like I’ve been down here a long time and I’ve had a chance to think.

Vriska knew that she’d been down in this place a long time – but did she _truly_ know how long it had been? Perhaps time meant little in a place such as this. Maybe she’d been gone for a thousand years, or maybe it had been but a few short seconds and John was waiting on the…

You’re gonna need to stop that.  
I don’t know what you’re talking about.  
_Yes,_ you do.  
You keep going around with this whole “Vriska is in love with John Egbert” thing  
and I literally _just_ told you that I’m not.  
However long it’s been,  
I got a chance to think and…  
I don’t think it makes sense for me.  
I mean, we do seem to work well enough.  
I feel like he kind of balances me out.  
But, also… I feel like maybe he’s got an attitude that isn’t going to push me the way I need.  
I’ve… got a lot of make up for…  
  
I don’t want to burden him with having to deal with that in the first place.  
It’d make him… feel shitty and then I’d feel shitty.  
  
Is any of this making sense to you?  
Would it help to know that he’s actually a _she_ ?  
I mean, she’s June Egbert.  
At least in one version of things.  
  
Or maybe middle-aged-depression John Egbert is more your speed?  
I’m not going to judge you – I’m just letting you know there’s options.  
  
Probably others… I’m not omniscient.  
Well, not in the way that you might be thinking, anyway.  
No… that doesn’t really help…  
But _why_ ?! I would think that… you know…  
for _you_ of all people… being… _what you are…_  
  
REAAAAAAAAALY?!  
What’s _that_ supposed to mean?  
No, don’t answer because I know _exactly_ what it means and it’s just you and I here.  
I would think you of _all_ people would be the last to judge someone for being trans  
(Roxy taught me that human word so don’t make any smug fucking comments about it)…

…

…

… 

I… I don’t… you’re not supposed to know those kinds of things.  
I never told you I was... I never told you that!  
But you told _someone_ and I guess that’s just how we’re doing things around here.   
Shut up! I’m losing the thread here!  
  
Oh, that reminds me – your thing should be _spider puns_!

…

Say “ you’re losing the _thread_ here .”  
Go on… say it!  
  
Also, you used nine A’s before so I’m going to act like everything you just said doesn’t matter!

…

No, I’m not going to say it.  
Also, fuck you.

...

…

A bolt of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the rolling deck of the ship and throwing the cragged shadows of the rigging across the faces of the crew who were fighting desperately to keep from being thrown overboard. Marquise Spinneret Mindfang clung to the railing with one hand and steered the ship with the other, calling out to her crew.

“Hold fast you cowards! We’ll all be dining in a palace or hell by tonight!” She threw back her head and laughed into the driving wind and rain, droplets splatter down on her face and she dared the storm to unleash its full onslaught on her.

Another blast of lighting ripped from the clouds, nearly hitting the ship’s rigging and sending a tangible shiver through the crew. As the lightning rolled through the clouds, Mindfang looked out into the raging storm and saw a si… sillout… [oh fuck, how do you spell that… this is breaking my flow] silhouette against the line of the waves. Her eyes narrowed as she squinted to make it out against the surging gale.

“Redglare…”

Okay, wait a minute. You do realize that Redglare didn’t _have_ a ship, right?  
She had a _dragon_!  
This is like FLARP 101 stuff right here.  
Shut up! I’m the one making this narrative and in my version of things Redglare has a very distinctive ship that Mindfang recognizes.  
...also, Redglare was probably dead at this point.  
Did you even remember that story?  
  
I… might have missed a few bits.  
I was reading fast.  
It happens – it’s a thing!

Mindfang recognized the distinctive sight of that ship’s rigging against the seaward sky immediately. She called out to her crew, her voice booming, yet oddly musical.

“Ahoy! We’ve got some company coming this way! The League of Legislacerators has sent their best Neophyte to kill me!” Mindfang threw back her head and laughed. “Let’s show them what pirates are _really_ made of!”

Gamblignants.  
Excuse me?  
They’re called gamblignants.  
It’s an Alternian term.  
They’re not just “pirates” and it means something specific.  
Well, my audience might know that but now I’m trying to expand and be a bit more mainstream.  
Trying to avoid buzzwords and overly specific terminology.  
The audience will know what “pirate” means – it’ll convey the right meaning even if it’s technically incorrect.  
  
That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.  
  
I still think your thing should be spider puns. Say “you’ve really tangled things up now!”  
  
No.

The crew let out a hearty cheer as they redoubled their efforts. Trolls began to rush to-and-fro on the deck as they readied the ship’s cannons for battle. In the distance, the lightning once again illuminated Redglare’s ship as it grew ever closer.

Skipping ahead a bit, Redglare was standing near the door to Mindfang’s cabin. Mindfang was seated in a chair near the ship’s window, her long hair flowing down her shoulders and back in a way that Redglare found extremely attractive. Redglare narrowed her eyes. 

“You smell… delicious… but I don’t see how you think this is going to keep you from justice. The senator already gave up everything he knew about you.”

“Oh, _did_ he,” Mindfang said it with a breathy laugh. “Did he tell you… _everything_ about me?”

She stood up from the desk and saw Redglare take a half step back. Mindfang smiled slowly and walked close.

“Did… he… really?” She was nearly close enough to reach out and brush Redglare’s lips with her own now… something she _desperately_ wanted to do. Mindfang could see the teal flush spreading through the Legislacerator’s face already.

“He…” Redglare swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, “may have left out a few details.”

She was back up against the cabin door now but Mindfang kept walking.

“You can stop this anytime you want, Legislacerator… just… say the word.”

Redglare shook her head and Mindfang flashed her fangs in a grin.

“Yeah… didn’t think so…”

Her lips brushed Redglare’s, then…

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!  
I was making the story better, dumbass.  
You… were… _what?!_ _  
_ Your stupid story was boring.  
Ooh, there’s a lot of lightning. Spooky.  
It wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to be _spooky_ it was supposed to be _exciting!  
_There was going to be a battle.  
Well, you didn’t get to it fast enough.  
I just skipped to the logical part _after_ the battle.  
I wasn’t even… I wasn’t… how did you even do that in the first place.  
You’re not supposed to be able to _do_ that.  
  
You keep saying that, but I don’t… hold on...

“You keep saying that, but I don’t understand why,” Vriska said, her hands gesturing as if to help her work this all through in her head. “You keep making all these weird statements and… where even _are_ we? Is this that weird John bedroom again? Can we please go somewhere else. Can _I_ pick this time?”

Fine.

Vriska briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was standing in the midst of a room made from board of some kind of purple-hued wood. A series of variously-colored plush dragons were scattered over the floor. Looking outside, it was clear that she was now standing in a treehouse far above…

“I know, dumbass,” she said, rather rudely. “It’s Terezi’s house.”

But why?

“Okay,” she said, “this is gonna get really annoying. Can’t you just… I dunno… talk normally?”

“Fine,” I said, inserting myself into the narrative in a way that will assuredly be a disaster in the end. Vriska narrowed her eyes and looked at me with a deadening glare… or, rather, she looked at where she _thought_ I was since I was still an intangible narrative device. The point was made.

“What is this place? What’s going on here? The last thing I really _remember_ was Lord English heading down into the black hole and then… I don’t know. I woke up in that void, but I don’t feel like I was asleep. But also I feel like I’ve been here for a really long time. And you’re talking about all this confusing shit about John being like five different ages and…” she let her voice trail off into the distance as she stared out the window.

A question was burning in my brain, and I just had to know.

“Why did you pick this place,” I asked. I hoped I made it sound like a casual question, but her sharp intake of breath made it clear that I failed in this goal. She paused for a second before answering.

“Because it makes me feel safe. Is that a _bad_ reason for you?”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, trying to sound less annoyed than I was feeling. “I was just curious.”

Vriska turned away from where she imagined that I was standing and looked down. Of course, I saw her expression even though she didn’t intend it and she looked extremely sad. I’m pretty sure there were tears in her eyes.

“You’re saying a lot of things that don’t make sense, and I was already running through so much in my head. I just really missed having Rezi there to figure this shit out with. Do you understand? I feel like you do… maybe not in the same way I do, but… you know… close enough,” Vriska trailed off again and motioned with her hand in a vague way.

She was correct that I didn’t exactly feel how she did, generally speaking, but I was getting a strong sense that I knew what she meant. Which was… an odd experience considering the parameters of this whole narrative.

“I’m also a bit confused,” I said. “At how this is even _possible_ – how you’re able to talk to me like this. Do you understand narrative structure?”

Vriska glared. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking wriggler. We had movies and books and stuff on Alternia. I used to RP all the time. I watched all those great movies that John recommended… I think a lot of them weren’t as great as I remember, but still. I know what you’re saying, it just doesn’t _mean_ anything in this context. Is that smart enough for you? Should I go get Kanaya over here to Talk About How You Dont Seem To Understand That We Trolls Are Not Complete Idiots Just Because We Are Different From You?”

 _Sarcasm is the last line of defense of the truly indefensible_. I thought that to myself because, thinking on it for a second, it sounded a lot better in my head than I think it would’ve if I said it out loud.

“Well, considering how terrible you’ve made Kanaya _feel_ in the past, I don’t know…”

Vriska snapped her fingers and cut me off. “Shut the fuck up! I know I hurt Kanaya. I know I hurt Tavros. And Aradia. And… Terezi…” I can definitely see tears in her eyes now.

“I know I hurt people that I cared about or people that I claimed to care about and sometimes I don’t even know what the difference is there. I feel like I’ve been spending my whole life pretending and I know I did some fucked-up shit, okay?! I told you it feels like I’ve been here forever. I’ve had time to think. A… a lot of time.”

“I almost think we should go back to the other way of talking,” I said quietly. I was sure it was quiet this time. “Maybe it would be easier. This is getting… kind of heavy.”

“Fuck off!” Vriska snapped. She looked both incredibly sad and incredibly annoyed right then. “I don’t fucking _care_ , don’t you get it?! I’m telling you that I’ve been thinking about the people I hurt for what feels like hundreds of sweeps and you’re talking about… narrative structures?! What the hell?!”

“Narrative structures are important,” I said. “They provide definition and can help a story move forward. Character motivation and arcs and resolution and all that.” I smiled, even though I knew Vriska couldn’t see it.

“Do you not understand that I AM A PERSON!” She was starting to yell again.

“I think you mean _troll_ , after all we wouldn’t want a cultur…”

“PERSON, you fuck!” Vriska very rudely cut me off. “I know what words mean. I’m not a shitty stereotype like you’re trying to pretend. Also... I’m feeling more than a little off on account of _being stuck in a black hole for hundreds of sweeps_!”

“To be fair, I don’t think time actually has meaning here,” I said, helpfully. Vriska glared, as if this was not something she found helpful.

“That’s _not_ helpful. I’ve just been… sitting here with my thoughts. Wondering if I deserve redemption. I feel so… _horrible_ for everything I’ve done. But… I also feel like I’ve been serving a sentence for so long that… maybe I just deserve to go back home and kiss Rezi like a thousand fucking times.”

If I’d had a mouth, it would’ve been agape. She said a thing I wasn’t expecting.

“I… I’m sorry. Kiss _who_?!”

Vriska smiled, but it was one of those smiles that people use when they’re not so much feeling happy as sad and lonely. I knew that kind of smile, because I’m a very accomplished know-er of the face. I use it in particular when I’m writing character descriptions – something I’m quite proud of.

“You’re doing it again. Kind of rambling. I don’t know how, but I can sort of hear it. It sounds like a bee buzzing in my ear except it’s a really annoying, kind-of-pretentious bee that I don’t like very much.” She didn’t continue, and I felt pretty stupid at that point.

...

“Anyway,” she continued, “you heard me. Maybe… I let that slip out not entirely on purpose, but I really miss her. Maybe… maybe I fell in love with her at some point and maybe I’m still in love with her.”

“You mean, _flushed red_ ,” I said, this time sure it would be helpful. Vriska glared again.

“I said what I meant, dumbass. You think I spent enough sweeps to have lived and died four lifetimes and didn’t figure out the quadrants are complete hoofbeast-shit? Seriously?” she was doing the thing where she was asking a question but the answer was already implied.

This was starting to feel dialogue-heavy, so Vriska turned and walked toward the…

“No.”

“What do you mean, _no_ ,” I asked.

“I mean _no_. I mean I’m not walking toward the anything. You tell me something… you tell me who the hell you are. You tell me why all this is happening. And you fucking tell me if there’s a way out of here.” The glare was still very much there, but it was colder than before. Even in my state as a disembodied narrative device, I was shaken.

“Well,” I wasn’t sure where to start, so I was using filler words to try to make up for it. “Well… well… you see… I’m the writer. Or the narrator. I guess you could use either term and still be technically correct. Except now I’m kind of a character.” I furrowed my intangible brow – this was a conundrum I hadn’t quite worked out myself.

“I haven’t quite worked it out myself,” I said. “But I set out to write a story about you. You’re a character and I was going to write about you. Probably about how much you missed John and maybe about how you were wondering why all this weird stuff was happening around you. To be honest I hadn’t quite fleshed it out yet and I was probably going to mostly edit it afterwards.”

“Has it occurred to you,” Vriska said, her teeth gritting, “that I’m an actual person and not a _character_ that you created and control.”

I didn’t want to admit that such a thought had very recently occurred to me, so I lied.

“No, that’s not possible. That’s not how narrative works. Canon is something that exists and we have to at least somewhat be aware of, but outside of that the narrative structure is surprisingly flexible and open to interpretation.”

“I think you’re a fucking liar.” Vriska reached down and picked up one of the plush dragons as she said it. The red one, specifically. She was smiling and kind of squeezing the dragon in a way that almost seemed unconscious.

“I don’t think you understand why this is happening any more than I do, and I think the more you invest yourself in it, the less you _get_ it.” She was right. I didn’t want to admit it. She kept talking.

“Can you even tell me what happened to everyone? You don’t seem to have a great grasp on how I actually feel about anything. You don’t know stuff about what I talked about in the last sweep or so. Do you know anything even remotely useful?” That was harsh. She was being harsh now. I wasn’t a fan. Still, I gathered myself up. Metaphorically – again, narrative device.

“Well, I do know you defeated Lord English. Maybe. Probably. And the others did get to Earth-C. Oh yeah, that’s _probably_ what it’s called, but maybe not. Most of your friends are… mostly okay. I think.” I paused for a second and if I’d had cheeks they would’ve turned crimson from embarrassment. “I mean… it seems like there’s two or three main possibilities, but I kind of skimmed through it.”

Vriska stopped fidgeting with the dragon plush and shot a piercing glare in a random direction. I think she just assumed I would interpret it as being at me, given the circumstances. She was right.

She stopped, took a deep breath, and looked like she was about to scream.

“You…” 

AG: YOU FUCKING SKIMMED IT!!!!!!!!  
AG: I don’t even know what “it” is exactly 8ut…  
AG: YOU _SKIMMED_ IT  
AG: You decided you were going to just kind of toy with the life of a real-life person  
AG: and your main response to all of this is that you didn’t fucking 8other to read up on what you were getting yourself into?

I was not expecting her to talk to me like that. We’d been pretty consistent up to this point, so I was basically working under the assumption that I had been pretty much a hundred percent wrong about how the rules worked around here. I guess it was more like a hundred-ten percent wrong… at least.

“Look, I understand you’re upset,” I tried to adopt my most calm, placating tone possible.

“No,” she was basically growling at this point, “you really don’t.”

The tears were back. Vriska sat down on the floor of the treehouse and clutched the red dragon up against her chin like a small kitten. She tucked her elbows into her chest and I could hear her starting to sob.

“You have… no idea. I spent what felt like forever thinking about everyone I’d hurt and everything I did wrong. I spent all this time wondering if anything I’d ever said or done meant anything to any of them, or if they all still hated me. I kept wondering _why_ I even did such bad things in the first place, and none of the answers I came up with ever felt like anything other than excuses.”

She took a deep breath and it came in as a shuddering sigh. If I had a hand, I would’ve tried to place it on her shoulder. I don’t know that she would’ve appreciated that, but I want you to know that it’s definitely a thought that I had. I’m not a monster!

“I feel like I’m haunted. I don’t mean like… not like Aradia-ghost-curse haunted… like… my own thoughts and feelings. I kept thinking about everything and running it all over in my head. I came up with so many different ways to approach everything. So many different things I’d do if I got out of here. So many things I want to say to so many people.”

I didn’t want to interrupt. It felt wrong.

“And… then I thought that they probably all moved on with their lives anyway. And I miss them. All of them, even Karkat…” she smiled, but it looked painful to do it.

“And I’m sorry but I kept coming back to Rezi and wondering… it felt like we left everything on such a weird note and I wanted to tell her that I didn’t mean… to be such a bitch all the time. I really love her. I wanted to say it.”

This was a theme I really hadn’t anticipated going into this. I hadn’t really prepared for it, so I just ended up saying something I thought sounded helpful.

“I’m pretty sure she’s looking for you. Like… maybe 99% sure… at least?”

Vriska looked up, her eyes stained and her face flushed blue.

“Really?” It was a sincere question.

“Uh… yeah? I think so. To be honest, there’s a lot of noise out there and a lot of different possible options. Think… I guess John’s retcon powers? Maybe that’s the easiest way for you to visualize it. Or the doomed timelines. But… more varied?” I had to stop ending on a question like that. It made me look uncertain and wishy-washy. Which, to be fair, I was.

Vriska buried her head in the plush and let out a noise that sounded like it was halfway between a scream of rage and a cry of anguish. She didn’t stop until her shoulders were shaking and the scream transformed into low sobs. The sobs became muted, then stopped, and she was just shaking in silence and hugging her arms into her body.

“Please… just help me,” she looked up and I’ve never seen anything so goddamn heartbreaking in my entire life. Her eyes had lost the fire I saw before – all of the sarcastic energy and light was drained away, replaced with a hollow hopelessness. I was brought back to the whole idea of trying to describe “nothing” in an adequate way and all I could think was _this – this is what that looks like_.

I took a breath myself. Breathing is good in trying times – it helps to steady the nerves. By which I mean to say I paused to try to think of a good response.

…

…

“I don’t know if I can.”

Vriska looked down and her shoulders slumped. I was thinking – trying to go over everything that had happened and process it properly. Something had occurred to me during this whole sequence of events.

“I don’t know if I can… but I think that _you_ might be able to.”

Her eyes lifted and she scowled. “What are you talking about?”

I was on a roll now. Or, rather, I had just opened my big, stupid mouth and now I was committed. I was thinking on the fly at this point.

“I think…” I acted like this pause was for dramatic effect, but that was a lie. It was to give me time to think. We’re really being open and honest now, aren’t we?

“I think that maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe I was wrong about you being a character, at least the way I thought of you. Not to get all philosophical, but aren’t we _all_ kind of characters? In our stories… in the stories that others tell.”

Vriska shook her head, slowly. That defeated look was still there.

“That doesn’t help,” she said. “Even if I’m not a character or we’re all characters or whatever… how does that even remotely help me get back.”

I wasn’t really listening to her now. Talking it through had the wheels spinning again and I could see where I was going with this. I’d faked it, now I was gonna make it. _[I need to remember to edit that out when I go through this again – it sounds ridiculous]_

“Wait!” I exclaimed! “Hear me out! You were able to change the entire narrative before. But you’ve been here for hundreds or thousands of years just kind of wallowing in your own pity.”

What the fuck?! What are you saying?! I’ve done some horrible things!  
I know. Look, you’re breaking the framework again. Please hear me out…

“I know you’ve done horrible things,” I continued, “but I don’t think you’re looking at this the right way. Quick question – what are you planning to do to make up for what you did to the people you claimed to care about?”

Vriska started to open her mouth, but then just sat there and blinked slowly. I took the opportunity – I was really going now!

“I think that whatever this place is, you managed to trap _yourself_ here. I think that all the regret and self-pity and indecision are what’s holding you here. Ultimately you’re not afraid of having done horrible things – you’ve come to terms with the fact that you did a lot of things terribly wrong and need to atone – I think you’re afraid of having to actually head back and put this whole thought experiment into actual action.”

“I think the things that scares you the most – the thing that hurts you deepest inside and keeps you bound to this place – is the fear of living your life beyond all of the pain you caused. Of actually having to face the fact that you can be a better person. I think you’re afraid of letting yourself be vulnerable to those people because you’re afraid that you’ll lose them or you’ll hurt them again somehow.”

“Fuuuuuuuuck…” Vriska leaned back and banged her head lightly into the wooden wall. “But how do I _do_ that?”

“Make a decision. Every single moment of every single day is a decision you make. Maybe that decision isn’t always fully yours, but you make the decision to keep going forward and doing everything you can. You made the decision to fight Lord English knowing full well that it could’ve easily ended up in you dying for good. Why’d you do it?”

“Because I cared about my friends and wanted to protect them.” She hadn’t waited to answer.

“And there are other decisions that you haven’t had a chance to make yet, right?”

Vriska looked down at the dragon plush and held it close to her face. She was blushing.

“Yeah… there are some things I wanted to talk to some people about… in general…” she let her voice fade.

“Look… there’s never any guarantees. Some people – maybe all the people – won’t forgive you. Or things will never be the same between you. Or maybe some of them _will_ and things will get better. Maybe this self-reflection will help you to grow in a way where it doesn’t _matter_ whether or not they forgive you, because you know you’re all moving in a better direction than you were. There’s no way to know, but if you don’t make a decision to move forward then everything will just stay… like this. Forever.”

Vriska sat back against the wall, closed her eyes, and looked like she was thinking for a long time. I went quiet as well… it didn’t feel right to say anything.

The act of describing nothingness is a kind of existential exercise. How does one describe something that inherently has no form or substance? For some, it might be as simple as describing a blank plane of black or white – a formless void from which no shapes or concepts emerge. It’s a simplistic shorthand, but effective.

And maybe, for this one, nothingness was a state of perpetual indecision. A state where she couldn’t move on with her life because she didn’t _want_ to move on with her life. Because moving on means facing the possibility of more pain. There’s risk, yes… but also the chance for salvation.

I was wrong about my role. I thought I was there as a creator… or at least a director of sorts. That’s not true – I was there as a conduit. Maybe a bit of an advisor. But, in the end, it was never really about me or what I wanted in the first place.

After a while, Vriska opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the light – almost blinding after the deep void or the dim lighting of the shadow treehouse. The light reflected from a blue sky overhead and green grass underfoot that looked almost neon by comparison to the dim and uncertain world she’d come to know.

The second thing she saw was the face of Terezi Pyrope, looking utterly stunned. Terezi was wearing the same black t-shirt she usually wore and had her short hair swept back behind her red glasses. Her red eyes were wide and her nose was twitching. Vriska stepped forward and Terezi put her hands up.

“Vris? Vriska?” Terezi stammered to get the words out. Vriska smiled and reached out, gently winding her fingers between Terezi’s. She leaned forward until their foreheads gently touched. Terezi’s gray skin was soft and slightly warm to the touch and Vriska could feel her own heart racing. Terezi took a deep breath and held it.

“It’s really you. I thought…” Terezi stopped with choked sob. Her eyes glittered with the tears that were welling up. Vriska didn’t say anything, but pushed her forehead gently forward and closed her eyes.

Am I on Earth? Is that really Rezi? Is this happening? Is this real?  
I’ve discovered that reality is rather malleable lately.  
Only you can answer those questions and only you can make that decision.  
  
I’m being serious… is this real?   
  
Do you need it to be?

Vriska opened her eyes, only briefly, and looked closely at Terezi’s tear-speckled face. Rezi was smiling but she looked like she was on the verge of breaking out into sobs at any moment. Her lips were quivering and it looked like she was trying to speak but couldn’t quite get the words out yet. Her hands were warm intertwined with Vriska’s and that felt good. Terezi kept squeezing Vriska’s hands and that felt good too.

Vriska was looking at the face of the woman that she loved and that felt better than anything had in an eternity. Vriska slowly closed her eyes again and smiled.

“Yeah, I do.”

And she made her decision.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! If you've gotten all the way down here, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I don't write much anymore (and haven't written fanfic in many, many years until now), but I got this idea in my brain and really wanted to put it out there. I had a lot of fun writing it and I really hope that y'all had just as much fun reading it.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment if you're so inclined!
> 
> For more general bullshit (and fan art), please check out my social media:
> 
> Twitter: www.twitter.com/AltUniverseWash  
> DeviantArt: www.DeviantArt.com/AltUniverseWash  
> Tumblr: TransKanayaMaryam.tumblr.com


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